


I'll use you as a focal point

by skyscraperblue



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, ridiculous christmas sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyscraperblue/pseuds/skyscraperblue
Summary: You would think, on the face of it, that Mitch and Willy would be best friends. They’re both bright, bold people, both full of energy, both wickedly talented. It should make sense; should be easy for them to like each other. But.





	I'll use you as a focal point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teamfreeawesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/gifts).



> Dear teamfreeawesome,  
> I hope this is everything you wanted! Your prompts were wonderful and I tried to fit as many of the things you like as I could manage. Enjoy!!
> 
> This is set in the 2017-18 season, because I can't deal with Willy's contract high jinks. The game schedules and wins/losses follow real life more or less, but actual scoring in those games is entirely invented.
> 
> Eternal gratitude to Lotts, Ali, Rachel and Annie for looking this over for me and reassuring me it wasn't hideous.
> 
> Title from "I Found" by Amber Run.
> 
> Edit: now that authors are revealed I can direct you to my twitter! [@knifeshoeboys](https://twitter.com/knifeshoeboys) on twitter :) 
> 
> Standard disclaimer - If you or someone you know appears in this fic, click away now and save us all the embarrassment.

You would think, on the face of it, that Mitch and Willy would be best friends. They’re both bright, bold people, both full of energy, both wickedly talented. It should make sense; should be easy for them to like each other. But.

There’s something about Willy, Mitch thinks, that just gets on his nerves. Willy’s just as sunshiney as Mitch, but in a sharper way, and Mitch always manages to feel wrong-footed around him. Despite Auston’s reassurances to the contrary, Mitch can’t shake the uneasy sense that Willy’s always laughing at him somehow. Mitch has never been one to lack confidence, and it’s not that Willy makes him insecure exactly, but whatever it is Willy does make him feel isn’t particularly something he wants to go chasing after. 

Mitch knows Willy doesn’t like him either. It’s never much bothered him - he knows he can be too loud, too excitable, too much of an overenthusiastic puppy, to suit some people’s taste. As much as Auston makes sad eyes at him about it, he doesn’t see the problem - despite everyone’s jokes about him being a tenth-grader, he really is an adult, and a professional, and can act cordially to someone he doesn’t get on with. They overlap at their love of hockey, and that can smooth out as many rough edges as it has to, because Mitch loves hockey more than anything, and he’s not about to let some blonde boyband-lookalike Swedish kid mess that up.

* * *

Auston, because he only pretends to be chill, is pretty dramatic about the whole situation with alarming regularity. Towards the end of last season Mitch got in the habit of checking Willy’s social media before agreeing to hang out with Auston, such was the frequency of Auston trying to force them together.

He’s out of the habit with the start of the new season, though, and when he shows up at Auston’s apartment after morning skate, he groans inwardly to see Willy already on the couch, flicking through Auston’s Netflix and sipping on some sort of… craft soda? Is that even a thing? Trust Willy to find craft soda. Mitch barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

But, oh well. Mitch prides himself on his friendliness. He just shoves a friendly elbow into Auston’s ribs in the doorway, then grabs himself a Gatorade -  _ not _ an obnoxious craft thing,  _ Willy, _ just regular blue Gatorade, like  _ normal _ people drink - and flops down on the other end of the couch. 

“‘Sup,” he says brightly to Willy, waving his Gatorade in Willy’s vague direction. Willy nods at him, half-smiles, and tips his fancy soda at Mitch before taking a sip of it. 

Mitch sighs, then gathers himself and tries again. “What are we watching?”

“Dunno,” Willy says, not taking his eyes off the TV. 

Mitch waits, but apparently that’s the end of Willy’s contribution. He gives up and yells for Auston instead. 

“Matts! What are you doing, man, get in here!”

“I was making  _ popcorn _ , you’re  _ welcome _ ,” Auston says as he comes in, elbowing into the space between Mitch and Willy and depositing a giant bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Willy, pick something, oh my god.” 

Willy huffs and makes a show of scrolling through several more options, but eventually settles on some action thing. They sit more or less in silence through the first few minutes, and Mitch is just relaxing into it when Willy says, “Those explosions don’t even  _ try _ to look real.”

Mitch can’t help but huff under his breath - to himself, he thinks, but Willy turns to look at him over Auston and says, a little sharply, “What? They don’t!”

“You picked this movie, dude,” Mitch says, as mildly as he can manage. Auston tenses a little beside him. Maybe it wasn’t as mild as he thought.

“Yeah, well, I’m just  _ saying _ \--”

“Hey, does anyone wanna play Chel?” Auston interrupts. Mitch looks at him, and he’s clearly trying to project chill vibes, but what he’s really projecting is a sort of desperation. Mitch sighs. 

“Yeah, sure,” Mitch says. “I gotta piss first, though.” He hauls himself up from the couch and makes his way back to Auston’s bathroom. 

Washing his hands after, he looks in the mirror and tries to tamp down his irritation. Auston is Mitch’s best friend, and Willy and Auston are good friends, and it clearly matters to Auston that they can all hang out. Willy is  _ not that annoying _ . It will be  _ fine _ . 

He leaves the bathroom, and is about to turn the corner back into the living room when he hears Auston and Willy talking quietly.

“--didn’t know he was gonna be here,” Willy’s saying, and he sounds vaguely annoyed. 

Auston’s sigh is nearly loud enough to shake the windows. “C’mon, Willy, he’s my best friend!” 

“Thought I was your best friend.” Willy’s obviously aiming for teasing and missing by a mile.

Auston huffs. “You’re  _ both _ my best friend, for fuck’s sake, can you not do this?”

“I’m just  _ saying _ , Matty, I didn’t think you’d be bringing the fucking kid over to play today. I don’t wanna play babysitter.”

Mitch knows Auston’s rolling his eyes, and he bites down on a grin. Despite all his pointed Instagramming, the ‘childish’ stuff bothers Auston almost more than it does Mitch.

“He’s literally  _ older _ than me, for god’s sake, can you not--”

Mitch knows Auston when he gets on this rant, and it’ll derail their whole afternoon if he lets it happen. Much as he likes watching Willy get the full brunt of Auston “Mitch Is A Mature And Responsible Adult” Matthews, this is  _ not _ the level of fun he wants out of his non-game-day evening. He abruptly turns the corner.

“Hey, what’d I miss? Anyone want a beer?”

Willy jumps a little to see him come in, then recovers enough to roll his eyes. Mitch wonders if he’ll end up with some kind of weird injury from doing that so much. “It’s three in the afternoon,  _ Mitchell _ .”

“I’ll take that as a no from you,” Mitch says sunnily. “Matts?”

Auston shrugs. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

They’ve started their NHL game by the time Mitch wanders back in with two bottles of the weird American beer that’s the only thing Auston ever reliably has in his fridge. He drifts round the back of the couch so he can come back onto it from Willy’s side, and as he’s stepping over Willy, tips one of the beer bottles ever-so-slightly and watches as a drop lands perfectly on Willy’s designer t-shirt. Willy jumps, swears, and drops the controller to scrub at the spreading stain, and the goal horn goes off for Auston’s team on screen.

“Whoops, my bad!” Mitch says breezily. “Sorry, Willy!” 

He plops back down into his seat at the end of the couch, grinning and pretending not to notice the dirty look Willy’s aiming at him over Auston’s head.

* * *

Look, Willy knows he can be a bit, well, petty sometimes. He likes to think he’s a pretty self-aware person, and he knows full well that he’s high-maintenance, and sometimes a little too sarcastic, and he uses more skincare products than the average hockey player has even heard of. He has boyband hair and bright blue eyes and he perfected the “casual” hair flip a long time ago but he  _ knows _ who he is. And he knows he can be petty.

But my god, can Mitch Marner sit still for _three_ _fucking_ _seconds?_

Mitch is all energy, like a Golden Retriever, or one of those wind-up toys, and it drives Willy up the  _ wall _ . Willy’s a pretty energetic person - he plays sports for a living, he kind of has to be - but he just can’t handle all…  _ that _ . 

It gets on his nerves. He tries to be understanding, but - sometimes, y’know, you’ve had a bad shift, you just want to sit on the bench and have some water and watch the boys play and not think about anything except what you’re going to do next. You do  _ not _ want someone bouncing up and down beside you and singing along to the arena music any time play stops. Or  _ maybe _ you’re in the locker room at second intermission and you want to talk to your lineys, go over some plays, and you don’t want one of your lineys - one of  _ your own lineys! _ \- kidnapped to listen to ‘motivational’ terrible Canadian rap music. 

He tries to be nice about it. He really does. He knows Auston and Mitch are obsessed with each other, knows he can’t stay friends with Matts if he doesn’t at least act civil with Mitch, and he may be a petty person but he tries hard not to be a  _ mean _ one. 

But sometimes he passes Mitch in the locker room after practice, Mitch who is literally dancing in his stall and somehow simultaneously stripping out of his gear, drinking a Red Bull, and loudly chirping Matty about some video game or other, and he can’t help but roll his eyes. 

Mitch sees him do it, somehow, and catches Willy’s gaze for a moment before honest-to-god sticking out his tongue. Willy sighs and walks away. This kid.

* * *

Willy and Auston connect for the most beautiful goal, Willy’s first of the season, his slick wrister off Auston’s pass, and it’s  _ perfect _ . The goal horn sounds and they crash together at the glass, Willy screaming into Auston’s face, overwhelmed by how it feels to be here, to be in the show and scoring and winning with his  _ best friends _ . Everything feels like fireworks, bright and loud and amazing. 

They head back to the bench right after their celly, still all bright shiny happiness, still talking about it. Auston slides in first, Willy right after, and they’re still grinning at each other even as the game continues on the ice in front of them. 

“--the way you were  _ right there _ , right where I was lined up to pass to--”

“--such a smooth pass, dude, it was, like,  _ flawless _ \--”

Willy’s halfway through his sentence as he reaches out to grab his water bottle, still trying to talk as he takes a sip. “And did you  _ see _ , how the goalie tried to--” he’s saying, as he puts the bottle down and turns back to Auston.

But Auston’s not listening anymore. Instead, Auston’s angled away from Willy, talking to someone on the other side of him. 

Willy frowns and leans around Auston to see what’s going on, then sighs loudly when he sees who it is. There’s Mitch, both hands on Auston’s forearm, talking a mile a minute, clearly having dragged his attention over there. 

He considers making a thing of it, but he knows Mitch is congratulating Auston, and he’ll look like a dick if he interrupts. Instead he just sighs and settles back on the bench, rolling his eyes when he’s pretty sure there won’t be any cameras on him anymore. 

Goddamn Mitch Marner.

* * *

Mitch is on his way out of the arena after practice, thumbing through Instagram on his phone and idly considering what kind of takeout to order for lunch, when he passes a hallway and hears an upset voice. 

He freezes, not wanting to get in the middle of anyone’s personal business, but also - Mitch Marner is not the kind of person to just walk away if someone’s upset. He tucks himself quietly against the wall and he tries to see if he can tell who it is.

After a second he realises they’re talking in Swedish, not English, and realises it must be Willy. He sighs internally. He has no idea how to deal with an upset William Nylander, no more than he does any other kind of William Nylander. He’s about to just keep walking when he hears the beep of the phone hanging up, and then the kind of sniffle that means either someone’s crying or they’re trying very hard not to.

Well. Mitch sure as hell isn’t going to leave one of his teammates crying in an empty corridor, no matter who it is. 

He walks slowly back and turns down the hallway to find Willy sitting on the floor, knees up, back to the wall. He has his head tilted back and his eyes closed, and Mitch can see him trembling ever so slightly. 

Quietly, so he doesn’t surprise Willy too much, he says, “Hey, Willy, are you okay?”

Willy jumps anyway, eyes flying open, then scrambles to his feet when he sees Mitch and scrubs a hand roughly over his eyes. “I’m fine, I was just heading out--”

Mitch sighs. “Look, dude, I’m not trying to be pushy, but - are you sure you’re okay? I was just passing by and I heard you on the phone - it didn’t sound great--”

Willy looks surprised, then angry. “You were  _ listening _ to--”

Mitch throws his hands up. “Relax, dude, it was in Swedish! I’ve no idea what you said!” 

Willy seems to remember this too, because he settles a little. “Oh.”

“You just - didn’t sound too happy. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Something flashes in Willy’s eyes. “I don’t need your fucking  _ pity _ , Marner--”

“It’s not pity!” Mitch says, maybe a little louder than he should. “I just--” He sighs. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. That’s all, I swear.”

“Oh.” Willy looks down at his feet. “Um.”

Mitch looks at him cautiously. “I can just go, if you want. Just wanted to check in.”

Mitch has half-turned to walk away when Willy says, quietly, “My parents aren’t coming to the game.” 

Mitch turns back. Willy’s slid back down against the wall, and after a second’s hesitation, Mitch sits down beside him. 

“They said they were coming,” Willy continues, and it’s like once he’s started talking he can’t stop, because the words come spilling out. “They told me they were coming, my parents  _ and _ my little sisters, and then they called and said it’s just bad timing, my sisters are in school and they don’t wanna take them out, and they’ll try and get over for a later game, but it’s too early in the season, and I  _ know _ they’re busy, I  _ know _ they are, but they  _ said _ they were coming, and I thought they’d already be on a flight by now and instead they just call and say they’re not  _ coming _ !” 

Willy bites off the last word, breathing heavily, and Mitch feels his heart twist despite himself. 

He opens his mouth to say something, then pauses. With the other guys he’d be already ranting along with them by now, and probably cuddling them too, but - but Willy’s different, and they aren’t friends, and he’s pretty sure anything he says will come across as pity. 

Instead, Mitch reaches over and grabs his gear bag from where he’d dropped it next to him, and roots through the end pocket. Willy makes a soft confused noise from beside him, but he just keeps looking, and a moment later finds what he’s looking for. He drops the bag of Skittles in Willy’s lap.

Willy laughs, surprised and maybe a little wet, and picks them up. “Thanks.” He rips them open and offers one to Mitch, and they sit without talking and eat the Skittles until the whole bag is gone.

* * *

They lose to the Sharks on the road, third in a string of recent losses, and it hurts. Willy knows - he  _ knows _ \- that they’re a good team, that this is just a rough patch, that they’ll be okay, but it still hurts. California is so far from Toronto, and he’s so tired, they’re all so tired, and they’ve got to fly back again tomorrow for a game the following night. Willy can see the season stretching out in front of him, and he loves hockey more than he loves anything but right now he’s facing down months of long flights and late nights and timezones flip-flopping all over the place and he feels exhausted just thinking about it.

Because it’s California, and they can go out here without anyone really knowing who they are, Mo makes a somewhat perfunctory effort to corral them all into a bar near the hotel. ( _ Playing at captain without the letter,  _ Willy thinks, then winces guiltily.) Willy orders some sort of fruity thing that turns out to be mostly vodka, and sits sipping it morosely between Auston and Zach while the vets argue half-heartedly about something to do with baseball. 

Thirty minutes after sitting down, Willy swirls the straw through the remnants of his mango-pineapple-vodka-whatever and decides if he’s going to mope anyway, he may as well do it in sweats in front of some bad TV. He throws a couple bills on the table, waves off Auston’s half-hearted protest at him leaving so soon, and heads for the door. 

Halfway there he realises Mitch has gotten up from the other table, and is also heading out about two feet in front of him. Willy sees him, actively  _ decides _ to just walk slower and then turn the other way when he gets out the door - and then somehow finds himself hurrying his steps to catch up to Mitch. 

“Heading back?” he says to Mitch. He shoots for  _ completely uninterested _ in tone, but probably just lands on  _ fucking exhausted _ . 

Mitch looks vaguely surprised to see him, but when Willy gets a closer look at his face, he recognises his own morose tiredness looking back at him. “Yeah, it’s been a long day, you know?”

Willy finds himself nodding along. “Tell me about it, man.” 

They end up walking back to the hotel together. They don’t talk, really - Mitch has his hands in his pockets and is looking intently at his own feet on the pavement, and Willy has about fifteen unopened Snapchats to flip through. They take the same elevator up to their rooms, and Willy’s vaguely contemplating whether the team nutritionist would find out if he ordered a chocolate shake from room service when they reach Mitch’s door. Mitch goes for his keycard, then hesitates with it half in the slot and looks back at Willy. 

“D’you wanna come in? I’m just gonna watch Netflix, but…” Mitch shrugs. “I mean, if you’re gonna be moping and I’m gonna be moping…” 

Willy tilts his head to one side, considering. Half of his brain is going  _ but you don’t _ like  _ Mitch Marner! It will be so boring! You’ll hate it! _ The other half, possibly the half that’s been more affected by the pineapple vodka thing, is reminding him that it’s actually kind of depressing to mope alone. In the end, he shrugs and says, “Yeah, why not?”

Willy ends up detouring back to his own room to get sweats, and when he gets back to Mitch’s room, Mitch has hooked up his Netflix to the hotel TV and is on the bed in his own sweats, flicking lazily through the reality TV category. He looks up when Willy enters.

“So I know there’s loads of actually good shows on here, but I like watching stuff I can complain about sometimes, so--” 

Willy sits down beside Mitch and grabs the remote. “You don’t have to introduce post-loss reality TV to me, Marner.” He finds  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ , noting with a deep sense of satisfaction that Mitch is already halfway through it, and hits play. 

It’s companionable, Willy thinks, halfway through the second episode. Mitch turns out to have some very serious opinions about wedding dresses, and makes some truly scathing comments that have Willy laughing out loud. They find they agree on several key things - namely that puffy meringue dresses are generally hideous - and all in all, it’s a hell of a lot more fun than Willy was expecting to have.

When Willy finally heads back to his own room, it’s later than he expected to be up, and he’s feeling a hell of a lot better than he thought he would be. 

He’s halfway through his skincare routine - and shut  _ up _ , Kappy, looking after your skin is  _ important _ \- when his phone beeps. He glances down to see Mitch has sent him a text entirely made up of emojis - the bride, the facepalm, and two blue hearts. He’s smiling before he realises, and he sends back the rolling-eyes emoji - and then, a moment later, a blue heart.

* * *

They sort of just - keep texting, after that. Willy doesn’t quite understand it. He knows he doesn’t like Mitch Marner, that’s been an established fact for quite a while, but it’s getting kind of hard to remember when Mitch is sending him ridiculous gifs and asking every question in the form of a long, barely-comprehensible string of emojis with a question mark at the end.

He wakes up some mornings to pictures of Auston hanging half out the car window because Mitch has deliberately pulled up too far away from the intercom in the Timmy’s drive through, or long strings of baseball and confetti emojis (and one duck, which Mitch apparently thinks is the closest to a bluejay) when the Jays win, or - when Mitch has been home to his parents for dinner - pictures of their family dog captioned with what Willy is pretty sure is as many heart-eyes and sparkly heart emojis as Mitch’s phone will fit in one text.

He smiles without even meaning to, every time he opens one. They’re  _ nice _ . They’re uncomplicated. He’s always thought Mitch’s over-the-top affection was ridiculous, but seeing it now, pointed in Willy’s direction, he understands how it makes people feel warm inside.

Now, tugging his tie into place before leaving for the rink, Willy’s phone beeps and he glances at it. Mitch has sent him a picture of Auston looking frustrated, top two shirt buttons still open, looking under a couch cushion. A moment later he gets a second picture, of Auston’s tie balled up in Mitch’s hand, and then a string of zipped-lips emojis. 

Willy laughs and sends back,  _ better give it back to him or he’ll strangle you with it when he works it out. _

He just gets an angel face emoji in return, and he feels warm inside.

* * *

It’s one of their rare off days in mid December, Toronto crisp and white outside Willy’s windows, and he’s lying on his couch vaguely contemplating starting a new Netflix show when his phone lights up. 

_ dudeeeeeeeeeeeeeee  _

_ have u got a christmas sweater for this year yet????? _

Willy rolls his eyes, fondly this time. Mitch Marner will never in his life use an appropriate amount of punctuation. He thumbs out a reply.

_ ive got the one from last year here still _

Mitch’s reply comes instantly.

_ bro u cant just reuse your christmas sweater wtf!!!!!!!  _

_ omg literally u cant do that its ILLEGAL _

_ i cant believe u _

_ the nerve of u william nylander!!!! _

_ hey are u doing anything we should go get u a new one now _

Willy blinks at the phone. He’s not actually doing anything, really, but it feels weird to make plans to actually, deliberately hang out with Mitch Marner. But then, he supposes, it’s felt weird texting with Mitch too, but it’s also been fun. 

_ im free, we can go if you want _

This time all Mitch’s texts come so close together Willy can’t figure out how he had time to type them all separately.

_!!!!!! yes!! _

_ im coming to pick u up theres no backing out now!!!!!! _

_ u better be readyyyyy _

_ [six christmas tree emojis] _

* * *

Shopping with Mitch, as it turns out, is surprisingly fun. He plays Christmas music at full volume in the car and sings along as loud as he can manage - Willy’s honestly surprised he doesn’t steer them into oncoming traffic, considering the amount of attention he’s giving his  _ All I Want for Christmas is You _ rendition. 

When they get to the mall, Willy insists they hit Starbucks before they actually attempt any shopping. Mitch gets some sort of Frappuccino that looks like mostly cream and chocolate, and Willy rattles off his usual order to the barista, fully aware as he does so that Mitch’s eyebrows are climbing higher and higher on his face where he’s standing next to him at the counter. 

They go to wait for their order and Mitch says, “What did you even  _ order?” _ in a tone of mixed disbelief and horror. 

Willy smiles innocently and repeats, “A tall extra-shot almond milk cappuccino with sugar-free caramel syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon.” 

Mitch wrinkles his nose. “Is that even coffee?”

“Look,” Willy says, taking his cup as the barista slides it across the counter and turning to add sugar, “I’m high maintenance, but I own it.” 

Mitch bursts out laughing behind him, and Willy smiles to himself.

* * *

They try three different shops before they find Christmas sweaters that are, in Mitch’s words,  _ epically tacky _ enough. Willy’s getting bored of Christmas sweater shopping and is wandering towards a stack of regular sweaters on a nearby table when he hears, “ _ Willy! _ This is it!”

He takes one look at the sweater Mitch is holding and loses it. It’s bright blue, almost Leafs blue, and is covered in tiny snowflakes. In the centre are three snowmen that are actually three-dimensional, coming out from the sweater in huge white puffs, and when Willy squints closer, he can see that--

“Mitch, does that  _ light up?” _

Mitch cackles and taps something near the hem, and sure enough, a garland of actual tiny LED lights switches on behind the snowmen’s heads. 

Willy can’t tell if he’s endeared or horrified. “Oh my god, Mitch.”

Mitch thrusts it into Willy’s hands. “Try it on! Try it on!”

Willy sighs as deeply as he can manage, but he’s still half-laughing as he pulls the sweater over his head, lights and all. He pushes his hair back off his face and looks at Mitch. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” Mitch says, and the smile he gives Willy lights him up from the inside out.

* * *

Mitch  _ loves _ the Leafs Christmas party. It’s pretty much the one party in the year you can guarantee everyone will go to, and everyone brings their kids too, and he can wear a ridiculous Christmas sweater, and they play excellent tacky Christmas music and there’s always a ton of food. It’s basically everything Mitch loves, all rolled up into one giant tinsel-covered glittery heap. 

He’s one of the first to arrive at Naz’s, and within ten minutes has already managed to find eggnog, a Santa hat, and some kind of cinnamon cookie thing Bozie’s wife made that tastes like the embodiment of Christmas. 

He’s halfway through his eggnog and is sitting on the arm of the couch, having landed several truly beautiful chirps on Marty, who’s been conned into playing Mario Kart and is now losing to one of the Marleau boys, when the latest crowd of teammates arrives. He glances over at the door, then turns and looks properly, because - there’s Willy, at the back of the group, and he’s got a light dusting of snow on his no-doubt-designer woolly hat, and his cheeks are flushed a little red from the cold, and he takes off his very expensive-looking coat and underneath he’s wearing the sweater they bought together.

Mitch feels dumb for how taken-aback he is. The whole point of them going shopping together was so Willy would get a sweater for  _ this exact reason, _ and yet it’s doing something warm and twisty to Mitch’s stomach to see Willy there wearing the sweater they picked. Willy looks objectively ridiculous, which is kind of the point of Christmas sweaters - he’s got actual literal lights on his sweater, for God’s sake, and little puffy three-dimensional snowmen - but he also looks warm and soft and happy, and Mitch kind of just wants to snuggle into him and not let go.

Oh. Right.

That thought is a little bit overwhelming. Mitch suddenly feels like he needs some air.

He ducks away from the crowd around the TV and makes his way quietly over to the sliding doors to the balcony. The noise is muffled out here, and he leans against the rail and looks at the Toronto lights and just breathes.

He knows he didn’t like Willy. He remembers it. But it feels far away now, like something from a dream, and when he tries to grasp that feeling again, he can’t. All the places he used to be annoyed by Willy, or find him stressful, or think he was stuck-up or overbearing, are all full up with other things: Willy laughing at the increasingly ridiculous selection of Christmas sweaters Mitch presented him with; Willy smiling at him over the top of that absurd Starbucks thing he called coffee; Willy loudly berating a woman on  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ determined to wear an off-white mermaid-style gown; Willy texting him back every morning; Willy’s smile; Willy’s blue eyes; Willy, Willy, Willy. 

He wonders if he should find it scary. Instead, he finds it just feels right.

His train of thought is interrupted by the balcony door sliding open behind him. He’s hardly even surprised when Willy stands next to him at the railings. 

“You okay?” Willy says quietly. “Not like you to be out here when you could be watching Matt lose to Patty’s six-year-old.”

Mitch turns a little towards him, but keeps his eyes on the city lights. “Yeah, I know, I just kinda… needed a sec.”

“Oh, well, I can go back in, if--”

“No,” Mitch blurts, and puts a hand on Willy’s wrist to stop him. “I mean - you can stay. It’s okay.” 

Willy looks at him curiously, but settles back at the railing again, shoulder to shoulder with Mitch. They look over the city without speaking for a minute, then Willy huffs softly under his breath. 

“What?” Mitch says.

Willy shakes his head. “Nothing, really, I just - I was just thinking I didn’t used to like you.” 

Mitch laughs. “Yeah, me either. You used to drive me crazy.” 

Willy smiles a little, then nudges him. “Used to?”

Mitch laughs again, softly, and turns to look at Willy properly. “Well, maybe you do still. But I like it now.”

Willy turns to face him. He looks almost shy, in a way Mitch has never seen him: normally Willy exudes confidence, but this Willy looks hesitant and cautious and hopeful. “You do?” he says, so soft. 

Mitch meets his eyes, catches his breath at the look on Willy’s face. Then he smiles. “Yeah. I do.” Then Mitch leans over, ever so slowly, eyes open all the while, and kisses Willy’s soft, perfect mouth.

Willy kisses back as though he’s been waiting for the chance, one hand coming off the balcony rail to wrap around Mitch’s waist. He pulls Mitch in against him and deepens the kiss, and Mitch makes a soft surprised noise before winding an arm around Willy’s neck.

The moment is broken by the sound of the sliding door again, and Auston’s voice says, “Guys, you’re not killing each other out he--  _ oh!” _

They break the kiss, laughing, and by the time they turn to face Auston he’s already sliding the balcony door closed, muttering, “Sorry, sorry!” and looking like he can’t decide whether to be elated or disgusted. 

Mitch leans into Willy’s side and says, “Guess he won’t have to worry about us not getting along anymore, huh?”

Willy laughs and pulls him closer. “Guess not.”

* * *

Willy’s half ready for practice, still trying to find his shoes, when his phone lights up with a series of texts from Mitch.

_ morning sleepyhead bet ur late!!!!  _

_ dont spend 8 thousand years on ur hair this time maybe _

_ omg are u even awakeeeeeeee _

_ willyyyyyy where are uuuuuuuu _

_ [ten kissy face emojis]  _

Willy smiles and picks up his phone.

_ mitch calm down im literally just about to leave _

Mitch sends back a long line of blue hearts.

When Willy pulls into the parking lot at the rink, he finds Mitch waiting for him. He’s holding two coffee cups, and he shoots one of his biggest grins at Willy as he hands him one of the cups. Willy sips it: tall extra-shot almond milk cappuccino with sugar-free caramel syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Sweet, over-the-top, and a little bit bitter: exactly how he likes it.

Mitch leans over and kisses him as soon as he moves the cup away. He tastes like coffee and pancakes and happiness. Willy smiles, tucks his free hand into Mitch’s, and turns for the locker room, Mitch talking a mile a minute next to him.

He guesses he doesn’t hate Mitch Marner after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Willy's ridiculous coffee order is in fact my own ridiculous coffee order, except with almond milk instead of soy. I too am high-maintenance and own it.
> 
> [@knifeshoeboys](https://twitter.com/knifeshoeboys) on twitter and always looking for more people to yell about hockey with!


End file.
